Finch's Pet
by EveNee
Summary: Rinch. Lemons. Tried something a little different as in less lovey dove. Not based on an episode.


Finch's Pet

"Mr. Reese!" Harold nearly screamed into the ear piece. It was silent for moments after.

"Harold, she got away." Reese coughed on the line and cursed under his breath. Finch could only sigh in relief.

"Was anyone hurt?" Finch hastened his search for the woman's real identity online. His fingers tapped the keys and made strokes along phrases but the screen remained the same with the same and only available picture.

"Grazed my arm. I'm coming back." The line went dead. While chasing a new number, a woman with no name and no paper trail, Reese was assaulted by another group following her. He noticed the suits but didn't register it for her. Whether she was a criminal or victim, it was better she got away.

An hour later, after hopeless searching and hacking, Finch let out a sigh and sat back in his chair. Just as he closed his eyes to take a breather, the door across the room opened. He straightened up to see Reese holding his torn jacket hanging idly off his raised shoulders and his hand clasped to his upper left arm. He looked around the room, saw no new news on the cracker glass board and glanced back to the door, planning to leave.

"What's wrong?" Finch picked himself up and walked towards Reese. The ex-operative moved back a step and turned for the door. He was gone without a word.

Even if Finch found something, Reese was his muscle. He decided to follow the wounded man home. He really looked like a beaten dog with his tail between his legs and his ears down. But, it was the stressing type of scared dog that could snap or flee at any second. Finch needed to care for his injured pet.

He made his way out the back and hailed a cab. The cab took him a few blocks from the apartment he had given Reese as a birthday present a week or so ago. He carefully hobbled through the crowds and slipped in through the side door of the apartment building. Stairs - not his best friend. He worked up the spiral until he hit the familiar floor. The halls were long and had scattered doors along it. Midway down the hall, Finch turned to a door and slipped his spare key into the lock. If he had knocked, Reese would have defensively locked down and not let him in, maybe even blocked the door with a chair or something. So, he turned the key and stepped into the hollow white room.

The shades where tilted down and spread along the massive wall of a window. Reese really did like his privacy. The hot orange of the sun was beating under the slits of the blinds and striping the wood floor. The bed was neatly made, possibly not slept in. The large space was empty still. He would have to help Reese redecorate soon. The small kitchen area was clean except for a few empty bottles of alcohol.

Finch looked around. He could hear the shower running down across the room opposite to the bed. Just as he arrived, the water shut off and a small puff of steam flooded the floor. Finch wanted the man's attention now and shut the door with a loud click of the lock. All movement in the other room ceased. Finch took slow, even steps to the counter, to disguise his off step, and laid his dark jacket along it. Looking up, he caught Reese, gun aimed, staring at him with a scowl.

Reese lowered his weapon. He set in on the counter while approaching Finch and swung the fridge open. That was empty too. There were only a small bit of take out and some milk- surprisingly. Finch mused it settled his stomach after the alcohol. Maybe he had a warm glass when he couldn't sleep. He let a snicker and smile come off his lips.

Reese shut the door with a box of Chinese food in his hand. He plucked the chopsticks from it and started to pop the pieces of cold chicken into his mouth that had small pieces of rice stuck to the skin while he leaned against the counter. His eyes were slitted and his mouth dry with that scowl. He had a towel on his shoulders and one around his waist, very loosely at that. His upper arm was wrapped in a thin layer of bandages. He looked even worse than before.

Finch turned to him and reached up to cup the Chinese box and peek inside innocently. It was sweetened chicken in white rice. He felt Reese's hand tense and released him to finish eating. Stress to physical contact, denying the need for any contact; Finch surprised himself with the conjecture he came to.

"Not to make you uncomfortable," Finch started, which brought Reese's eyes to him, "Is it sexual, perhaps, Mr. Reese?" Finch looked up honestly to Reese. While he waited for a response, he considered calling someone, though immoral, they could finish work up. He knew that was a risky thought because no one could know he lived here or be able to describe him, although her description wouldn't be one of much help. Maybe, if that ever did happen, she'd mention his tanned skin and scowl. Maybe his sometimes soft sky or hard icy blue eyes. Perhaps her lack of class would bring up his body, toned and experienced, the way he moved in her- Finch snapped back into reality, suddenly in a light sweat.

The wounded dog didn't respond. He only lowered his food to the counter behind him and went for the bed. He slid past Finch, just avoiding brushing arms. He stopped by the bureau and threw some dark green pants towards the bed. He followed and stripped his towels. The crisp white of each pooled on the ground by his feet and left him completely exposed. He kept his back to Finch and stepped into the green cargo pants, commando. He didn't bother with the button and worked his way back to Finch. Finch moved aside.

Reese stayed silent and poured some dark, unlabeled alcohol into a tall glass. He took his old spot and tipped it down his throat. Finch stared a while then stepped closer. He wrapped his hands around the lowered glass and sampled the harsh liquor. He pushed it down his throat and looked up to Reese. Their faces were inches apart.

"Stop fussing." Finch bent up on the balm of his feet and kissed Reese. It was impersonal and cold. His lips were hard and chilled from being outside while Reese's were wet and warm. Finch noticed his failed attempt and reached between them. He took and placed the alcohol aside before placing his hands spread out on Reese's chest. He was hot and still tensed. But, when Finch touched him, he rolled his shoulders and closed his eyes while turning his head to the side almost like he was resisting how he liked the skilled hands on his skin.

Reese held still with his head turned aside and soft, empty breaths brushing off his lips. Finch moved his hands slowly, massaging the tensed muscles. The strain quickly heightened instead of relaxing. He found the tan skin was soft yet hardened with some sort of doubt. Finch worked his hands down the chest to the flexing stomach. There he felt a scar. It stretched across his stomach just about his navel. He traced it with his fingers until Reese whined.

"Stop." Reese pushed Finch's hands away and evaded him until he reached the large bed.

Finch followed closely, and, when the half-naked man stopped to rub his temples, he wound his arms around the prominently wide hips and pulled himself up to Reese's back.

Reese froze when he felt the other hot body press against his back. He clenched his hands into fists then relaxed.

"I won't go easy on you." He said in his low yet seductive voice. His head craned over his shoulder. There, he brought his hand up and grabbed a handful of the brown locks. He pulled hard, forcing the cold lips to his own. It was hard and tentative. Neither moved. Suddenly, like a spark, the cold lips turned warm and velvet against his own. They worked and tugged at his lips. Finch was holding back. Reese's scowl perked for a moment into a devious smile. He let Finch work his mouth a bit before responding. A soft tongue swept along his lips, taunting but not persistent. He poked the tongue with his own and circled it slowly. Finch quivered against him but bounced back.

Finch's body was tightly pressed to the others; even molding to its shape. It was strange, he felt his body growing hotter and harder to control. Pulling from the kiss for a breath, he laid his forehead to the broad shoulder and explored the exposed skin with his fingertips. He made slow movements, tracing and memorizing the shape and curves. Reese held still, allowing the older man to find the undone zipper to his pants. He didn't move a muscle while a single hand slipped beneath the green layer and touched him, flesh on flesh. A small burst of heat rose, small and hardly noticeable.

Reese laid his head back to stare at the ceiling while he was prodded by a curious hand.

"Don't expect much," he murmured.

Finch grumbled into his shoulder blade and took a firm grasp of the flaccid member. It was heavy in his hand even in this state. The other hand made an effort to join and wrap around the other like reinforcement.

The cargos fell a bit from the jerking and hung idly around the wide hips. Reese took a deep breath while he stared at the ceiling and Finch worked feverishly to excite him.

"Your mouth." Reese rolled his head to nudge Finch's which was still on his shoulder, face down.

The chocolate locks lifted to reveal the reddened visage. But, the heated man nodded and released his tight grip on the limp flesh. The tan body turned, arms lax by his sides and head tilted back to the ceiling again. Finch knelt, left side first, in front of Reese. There, he rested his hands on his thighs and stared at the wood floor.

"Don't use your teeth." Reese reached a hand out. His fingertips brushed under Finch's chin then slid back along his jaw until he cupped his face. He guided Finch forward until his agape lips brushed against the limp flesh. There, the hand slid back through the messy hair and cupped his skull tentatively. With an audible swallow, Finch shut his eyes and framed the ex-operative's member with his hands. He only used them to lift the organ to his lips to kiss and lick. A small while of clearing his mind and no reaction from Reese or his body, Finch thought of what he would like to feel. His mind calmed and he worked like he imagined a woman would. One hand made small jerks at the base while his tongue worked the head. Licks here, around there; he even found amusement in the heavy bitter taste of the beads of precome finally showing - which he licked at eagerly. He noticed, after working the slit and head altogether, Reese was hard.

Finch glanced up. The dark hair had fallen forward to look down at him with icy eyes. The hand in his hair tightened and tugged occasionally when the tongue worked him in a way he liked. - Reese was watching. He didn't look away or close his eyes to imagine another person. He vividly watched Finch work.

With an audience, Finch worked harder. He pulled away to take a breath, breathing over the head and making all of Reese's muscles tense. His neck tilted, only a bit in pain, taking the firm yet not solid organ down his throat. The gesture made Reese shudder and let out a sound. It was low and sensual, also encouraging. Finch worked like that, in a rhythmic motion, back and forth, taking the length fully each time. It brushed along his throat and filled him in a way he never thought he would enjoy. The flesh grew hard instantly and Reese's voice rang out. That voice, rugged and conveyed in a near whisper, made everything so real. This feeling they both had was burning deep, something they both craved and needed.

Finch worked until Reese ripped at his hair with both hands, dragging his lips far from the large, throbbing length. A small string of saliva hung from the tip of that wet tongue to the reddened head. pale eyes darted up for more instructions. Finch was grabbed by his upper arms and pulled to his feet. A hard kiss was forced on his lips. Reese whipped him around until the back of his legs hit the bed. He was pinned. All he could do was hold onto the strong body and kiss back. Those arms came around his lower back and held so tightly. Reese bent one knee past him onto the bed, using the leverage to throw their bodies onto the covers. He was being less than gentle with fragile Finch. But that usual pain, in his neck and right side, were practically gone. The heat of Reese's body engulfed him, creating a barrier to all other feelings. As long as he had a distraction, he was more than pleased to oblige to this rougher kind of activity. The kiss was drawn out, long minutes of licking and sucking on tongues and lips.

Reese finally pulled away for a breath.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked it very businesslike, almost too much so for Finch's liking.

"Of course I am, Mr. Reese," Finch retorted with a harsh tone.

"Hmm, Harold. Just remember I would never hurt you purposefully." Reese's tone had softened a bit, like when they conversed casually. He finally opened up to the idea of having Finch and lost his scowl.

"I wonder if you make a habit of saying things like that to all your partners." Finch eased on the comforter until his neck was straight and in less pain. The twinge of that pain on his face brought Reese into reality finally. Still, he teased. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment, just swimming in the glazed blue and pale.

"Are you jealous?" Reese's velvet kiss touched Finch's neck and his fingers worked down to the buttons on his shirt. He carefully worked them undone with two fingers until Finch's upper body was bare to the minimal light. As he worked down the neck, Finch tensed and then jerked his body, almost unable to control it. Reese bit at the exposed skin and sucked it until it bruised to a dark color that everyone would be able to see tomorrow. A mark of dominance and territory.

"Hardly. What are you waiti - ah!" He moaned out when teeth bit at his caramel nipple and tweaked it. Reese teased it in his mouth with his tongue, circling it, bending it back and forth.

"Always think of your partner first. I'm not heartless, Harold, just stressed. I might punish you for being so bold. I liked quiet Finch." He gave a smile and pulled his body back up for a kiss. Through the kiss he reached up the bed and shuffled under the feather pillows until he grabbed onto something. He put the small tube he fetched beside them and resumed to the kiss; hands diving into the brown locks and pressing his tongue deep into the others mouth to claim it as his own. Finch turned his head aside, catching his breath and a glimpse of the tube.

"I'm starting to rethink this." He said rather low in a self-scolding tone. A kiss pressed to his cheek.

"If you can push me away, you can run." The lips against his cheek formed a smile. Reese reached over to the tube and worked the cap off with one hand. The wet contents lathered his hand and left it a sort of shiny. Finch had to admit, he was growing curious. What would it be like to have another - no - Reese, inside of him? He had to admit he thought it over in passing a few times when admiring the work of a body he had hired and had most control over. He usually only got this chance when fixing up his cuts and scrapes. Was this really a favor or a selfish act of desire? But, the way Reese kissed him so tenderly suggested he wasn't the only one. The tan hand slipped between them, latching onto Reese's hard length which was dragging against Finch's exposed stomach. He stroked it a few times, somewhat coating it. The warm sensation sent throbs of heat through his body instantly.

"You should take these off," he groaned hoarsely while tugging at the brown suit pants with his free hand.

Finch pulled his gaze from the seductive show and quickly shed his pants. His briefs went next over the side of the bed and he was mostly bare excluding his unbuttoned shirt. Reese groaned again as he observed the bare flesh beneath him. Finch was the same as he was, hard but not as entirely unashamed by it. He squirmed and tried to cover it with his hands. Reese brushed his free hand over the two clasped in a shell over Finch's member. The consoling rub made Finch throw all his concern to the wind. He let Reese grab a hold of his length and tease him. He cupped Reese's hand with soft whimpers and whines. It had been years since he had another touch him so intimately.

"Bend your knees," Reese ordered while slowly drawing out the heated stroke along his length and fondling Finch's just a bit as well.

Finch did as instructed, coyly parting his legs and leaving a small space for Reese to work with. The familiar feel of those worked hands touched under his thighs, holding them up a bit and exposing him completely. Reese groaned at the sight of the rosy pucker. It just begged to be taken. He slid the left leg up on his right shoulder and held the right one a few inches off the bed. He used his left still slick hand to massage the red bud. His fingers worked against it, rubbing and wiggling against it until it let a single digit inside. Finch tightened at the feel.

"Mr. Reese... Nhh... John," he panted out, his fingers whitening around the messy comforter by his head. The finger felt so warm inside him, almost burning. He couldn't tell if it was from Reese or the lube. He frankly didn't care which.

"I have to admit, I love your voice," Reese whispered. His finger withdrew and was replaced by something harder, bigger. His back straightened and he held the legs spread far apart while lining himself up.

"Let me hear more." His hips rolled forward, nearly slamming against Finch's ass.

Pain, burning lust, that small string of throbbing pleasure. Finch was torn. His eyes widened, mouth agape, no sound forming but a strained gasp. His body was tensed, clearly unfamiliar to the situation. Beads of tears budded at the corners of his eyes to roll down his red cheeks as his eyes flattened.

Reese held fast into the tight hole. It almost sucked at him as it constricted and very rarely relaxed. He watched Finch with hooded eyes. It was hard enough to stop like that, but he wanted to make Finch scream. The way he was taking it was too cute to bear anyway. Finch balled his fists against Reese's chest. He gave a push against it, not strong or begging to stop, but something of hesitance.

"You're too big..." he mumbled between pants.

"Did you want me to stop?" Reese asked only as a reference, because he wouldn't now, even if the current number walked through the door.

Finch threw his head to the side the best he could to avoid Reese's prying eyes. Two fingers framed his chin and brought their eyes back together. The next kiss was soft at first, then hard and deep. Finch had to bite Reese's lip to get a breath.

"N-No. I-," he bit his lip hesitantly. Reese jerked into him a bit further, pulling out a whimper and swell of more tears at the corners of the widened pale blue orbs.

"What was that?" The corners of Reese's mouth tugged into a smile, somewhat devilish.

Finch shook his head and pressed harder against Reese's chest.

"I want more of you, all of you. You really - mffh." Reese stopped the scolding with a kiss. His clean hand ran through the brown hair to hold the other still. It was light and ended with a soft whisper from Reese, "All you have to do is ask me. I thought you knew better." He did love to tease. He continued to move his hips, slower now, but hard and steady.

Finch whined. It was unpleasant at first, despite the lube. He was grateful though, to watch Reese. As he moved, almost elegant like a dance, his hair moved in the air in every which way with no rhyme or reason other than his rocking momentum. His eyes were hooded and dark. Swear beaded at his brow and made his tanned skin glow. Although he had the pleasure of seeing Reese how he truly was, in his raw form, the pain started to shoot through his right side, creeping deep into his mind and hindering his ability to try and enjoy this. It made him grimace, contrary to his moans. Reese, lost in it, only thrust harder and bruised the thigh of the leg bent over his shoulder.

"J-John!" Finch clenched the flexed muscles of Reese's upper arms, trying to get his attention. The movements halted – but delved to the hilt with a pre-pause thrust. Reese's hands came up to cup his face and gently rub his lower lip. His eyes read something, almost trusting. This must be how some of their numbers see him.

"Bear with me." Reese pulled the right leg onto his other shoulder. The transition sent shocks of pain through Finch, but he nodded in agreement. His legs rested easily on Reese's shoulders, almost pressed to his stomach as Reese hovered over him. From this angle, he could see the entire show. His body engulfed Reese so tightly. Hips slightly raised, Reese gave him a perfect view.

Reese held the right leg to support it and cupped the left cheek with his free hand. Then, he moved. He made a habit of drawing out to the tip and driving back in to the base. The slow, hard pace nearly drove them both insane. Finch's body heated and throbbed in ways he didn't know he could feel. The pressure and heat thrusting inside him felt almost like a dream. But, the beast above him was real, and driving his mind to a white haze. It all began to blur, stars shooting across his vision.

"Aha, no yet," Reese groaned as he grabbed Finch's leaking member and tightened his grip around the base. Finch yelped and constricted round the throbbing organ forcing itself into his body. The grip on him instantly released. Just as it did, a small spot in him sparked with the last thrust. It shook his body, easily pushing him to the limit. Reese as well felt it. The heat of the walls clenching down on him, milking him, he threw his head back as his body arched, plunging hard against that sensitive pleasure trigger buried in Finch. Together they shuddered, Reese couldn't help the pleasure he felt from burying his seed deep inside Finch. And, across that heaving stomach, was Finch's seed, heavy and thick like he expected.

Reese let the legs slip off his shoulders to the bed as he collapsed onto Finch. They laid panting, trying to muster up enough strength to at least make some contact. Neither could and simply laid together with Reese splayed out atop Finch. It was quiet except for Finch's heavy breathing and muffled pleas. Reese lifted his head to listen to the bird's calls.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked in a way that revealed his need for more. After sampling Reese, he knew he could never let him go. Finch looked down to Reese, who was smiling while rubbing small circles at his shoulder with the arm he curved over Finch's chest. Reese's brow raised and he gave a light thrust after raising up on the arm he buried beneath himself as he fell. Finch let his eyes flutter shut and whimpered as if he had become the beaten dog.

"I must need more medicine," Reese mused to himself while pressing Finch's worn body into the bed with his hips. He only did it a few times before resting his head on Finch's left shoulder and nuzzling his neck, still buried deep inside him. Finch rustled the dark hair and pet it slowly with his own smile.

"I don't know what I would do if I broke you. You do owe me one more dose though." Reese cuddled closer to Finch.

"You have refills." Finch joined in the playful talk and he wound his other arm over his chest to gently brush his fingertips along the loosened bandages on Reese's upper arm. That's right, this was all to get work done. Finch shook his head lightly and let the thought of work pass for once.

They continued the playful banter. Finch was glad to have his Reese back, and didn't particularly mind the means he had to use. He would just spite any future women that even thought of Reese's body.

I took a buffer to the proper details. So haha! Haven't seen me in a while, well watch out the slew of new stories I've been hiding away from you! All ranging from Doctor Who to Supernatural, Person of Interest, White Collar, and oddly Trigun! Seriously, watch out, you'll drown in the amazing smut. *Wink*


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